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Literature Text
There was a girl once born of stone,
Who stormed around the town.
Her cobbled feet ran through the streets,
Beneath her ballast gown.
Her hands were stony as can be,
Good stone for grinding flour.
But she'd been picking lemons, so
The bread came out all sour.
'Twas like vinegar in the mouth,
But with a citrus zest.
She also baked some scones but I
Won't bore you with the rest.
Her hair was white asbestos and
Her dandruff, it was chalk.
And when she opened up her mouth,
She spoke in pebble-talk!
Her words chattered across the floor,
They fell eloquently.
But putting them in order was
Quite hard to do, you see?
This girl was like a statue fine,
She could be looked at long,
But once while in a gallery,
They said "The nose is wrong."
This was a very crass remark,
It hurt her self-esteem.
Because of it, gravel she cried:
A gritty little stream.
She comfort-ate a bag of jet:
Put her in a black mood,
But as she ate, it came to her:
The answer was not food.
It made no difference what they thought!
It was a lovely nose.
No sculptor could improve it with
Cleopatra to pose!
She thundered into the town square,
Shouted a monument:
"Your face is fine the way it is,
Be it skin or cement!"
Who stormed around the town.
Her cobbled feet ran through the streets,
Beneath her ballast gown.
Her hands were stony as can be,
Good stone for grinding flour.
But she'd been picking lemons, so
The bread came out all sour.
'Twas like vinegar in the mouth,
But with a citrus zest.
She also baked some scones but I
Won't bore you with the rest.
Her hair was white asbestos and
Her dandruff, it was chalk.
And when she opened up her mouth,
She spoke in pebble-talk!
Her words chattered across the floor,
They fell eloquently.
But putting them in order was
Quite hard to do, you see?
This girl was like a statue fine,
She could be looked at long,
But once while in a gallery,
They said "The nose is wrong."
This was a very crass remark,
It hurt her self-esteem.
Because of it, gravel she cried:
A gritty little stream.
She comfort-ate a bag of jet:
Put her in a black mood,
But as she ate, it came to her:
The answer was not food.
It made no difference what they thought!
It was a lovely nose.
No sculptor could improve it with
Cleopatra to pose!
She thundered into the town square,
Shouted a monument:
"Your face is fine the way it is,
Be it skin or cement!"
I wasn't planning to upload this for two reasons. One was my moderate loathing of poetry, and the other was that this is the piece I submitted to compete for a place on the Creative Writing module next year. However, I'm prone to destroying, losing, or at least losing track of my work, so I'll consider this a backup. Also, now there's no risk of confusion if one of the staff finds this online.
There are two stories behind this. One is the circumstances under which it was written. As mentioned above, I had to submit something in order to be considered for the Creative Writing module: there were 18 places for the entire year of students. Our instructions were that it must be a poem of forty lines or less, not necessarily emotional, but definitely including lots of concrete imagery. Given that I'm a prose writer, and that being forced to write a poem put me on the same level as all the people who turned up because they wanted to "start" writing, I was pretty irked. Because of that, the title and content were my small protest. Not much, I know, but I'd already tried arguing my point and they were pretty unsympathetic.
The character (though not the story) was taken from a story of mine: [link] . I didn't have any new ideas for a poem, and I just thought "Oh, wow- concrete imagery. A girl made of concrete. Ahahahaha! I'm so unrelentingly clever!" Or I would have thought that if I was an egotistical, pun-spewing jerk. As it was, I just whined about the situation and got on with writing the thing.
I was pretty surprised to get onto the module in the end. I got an email saying "If you haven't had an email by now, you don't have a place." The confirmation email came through a few days later.
Anyway, thanks to
for having a look through this before I had to hand it in. In the end, I didn't have time to rework it, but there was one small change. Lines 31 and 32 originally read:
But then she realised that the
Answer lay not in food.
It turns out that ultimately there was barely any competition for places, so I really got lucky with this.
There are two stories behind this. One is the circumstances under which it was written. As mentioned above, I had to submit something in order to be considered for the Creative Writing module: there were 18 places for the entire year of students. Our instructions were that it must be a poem of forty lines or less, not necessarily emotional, but definitely including lots of concrete imagery. Given that I'm a prose writer, and that being forced to write a poem put me on the same level as all the people who turned up because they wanted to "start" writing, I was pretty irked. Because of that, the title and content were my small protest. Not much, I know, but I'd already tried arguing my point and they were pretty unsympathetic.
The character (though not the story) was taken from a story of mine: [link] . I didn't have any new ideas for a poem, and I just thought "Oh, wow- concrete imagery. A girl made of concrete. Ahahahaha! I'm so unrelentingly clever!" Or I would have thought that if I was an egotistical, pun-spewing jerk. As it was, I just whined about the situation and got on with writing the thing.
I was pretty surprised to get onto the module in the end. I got an email saying "If you haven't had an email by now, you don't have a place." The confirmation email came through a few days later.
Anyway, thanks to
for having a look through this before I had to hand it in. In the end, I didn't have time to rework it, but there was one small change. Lines 31 and 32 originally read:But then she realised that the
Answer lay not in food.
It turns out that ultimately there was barely any competition for places, so I really got lucky with this.
© 2010 - 2024 kingtut98
Comments10
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Despite how much you may not have enjoyed writing this piece, I really had fun reading it!